


To My Dearest Love

by edith_writes



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Adventure, Enjolras is a prince, Falling In Love, I know, M/M, Slow Burn, grantaire is basically the local guy who pops up every now and again to talk about obscure things, id say sorry but im not lol, im sorry, ish idk my writing isnt that long, monarchy is bad 101 ft. the literal crown prince???, oh! also everything i know about medival times comes from monty python and the princess bride, they will be in love Eventually please trust me, this is a royalty au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edith_writes/pseuds/edith_writes
Summary: To my dearest love,Forgive me. For what I am and shall become.-Grantaire has always been afraid of things that go bump in the night. So, when he is woken by a prince falling from thin air onto his floor, it's really the only natural response to drag him back to the palace.The only problem is, the palace is almost literal month's travel away, and the prince is not exactly all that meets the eye.
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Courfeyrac/Jean Prouvaire, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 6





	To My Dearest Love

**Author's Note:**

> "What is your name?" The voice from the floor asks, and his confusion must show on his face because Enjolras's brow furrows slightly, "If you don't mind my asking."
> 
> It's not that he minds, per say, it's just that he's on the verge of losing it and he currently cannot engage in any form of interaction without considerable effort. "Grantaire." He manages. Then again, because apparently he hasn't said it enough, "Oh my god."

The thing is, Grantaire thinks, the thing is, that being someone who hates anything out of the ordinary is simply something that leads to very out of the ordinary things.

He is one of those who is afraid of the dark and spiders and things which go bump in the night.

So it is of no surprise to him that the thing which wakes him up, pulling Grantaire right out of sleep and up out of bed to investigate, is a very loud 'bump' from somewhere near the floor.

This 'bump' he discovers is from none other than a person, and, at that, a person who is lying on the floor, with a large amount of curly hair shining silver in the faint moonlight, but before Grantaire can process the fact there is a human on his floor, on his kitchen floor, said person has launched themselves head first into him.

"What the fuck." he says, the noise shattering the quite of the room, the other man's eyes focus more clearly on him and Grantaire notes absently that they are very, very blue.

The other man is speaking and Grantaire closes his eyes briefly before repeating his previous statement. "No, seriously, what the ever loving fuck?" The man on his floor is staring at him oddly and, Grantaire thinks, that really, if anyone is allowed to be odd in this situation it's him. "Oh my god."

The man on his floor _still_ seems to be attempting to make conversation, which, in Grantaire's humble opinion, is not currently even close to what he wants to be doing. Which is sleeping in his own bed and waking up to find out this has all been a rather strange dream.

"I am Prince Enjolras," says the man, and he has his hand out to shake and just what he's gotten himself into- "It is very nice to meet you." The prince (Grantaire is quite literally about to faint) continues, holding out a hand as if he should shake it.

"Prince? Oh my _god_." This is not what he signed up for at any point, and dimly Grantaire realises that if this Enjolras really is the prince he'll probably regret speaking to him that way, but he can't bring himself to care.

"What is your name?" The voice from the floor asks, and his confusion must show on his face because Enjolras's brow furrows slightly, "If you don't mind my asking."

It's not that he minds, per say, it's just that he's on the verge of losing it and he currently cannot engage in any form of interaction without considerable effort. "Grantaire." He manages. Then again, because apparently he hasn't said it enough, "Oh my god."

Enjolras nods once before screwing his eyes shut and falling over backwards. Leaving Grantaire with not enough sleep or brain space and an unconscious prince on his kitchen floor.

-

With Enjolras safely deposited on the bed he begins to allow himself to breathe. The situation at hand is odd at best, so he decides to tackle it the only way he knows how. Ignoring the whole thing until it goes away.

Grantaire pulls a chair up quietly to the table and picks up a book, turning the pages slowly and attempting to concentrate on the words before his eyes, he gets a few chapters in, some cheap fantasy full of magic and adventure he'd picked up at the market- but his focus slips more often than not. The issue is this- Enjolras has moved from literally unconscious to just plain sleeping- and is rustling the bedclothes every time he turns.

He's muttering slightly in his sleep, and despite being dead to the world still has a cease of worry and confusion between his eyebrows. This in itself would not be distracting- Grantaire is used to blocking night noises out, but the mystery surrounding him fascinates him just as much as it scares him.

So, with a weary sigh, he marks the page and sets about gathering books of the academic kind about him. Grantaire considers briefly just going to sleep- but with his mind as full as it is, that is out of the question.

He begins by thumbing through some book on illusion, and the state of consciousness, and amuses himself by concocting theories as to Enjolras's sudden appearance, stopping short of nothing but ideas of the fantastical nature.

The simple fact of the matter was this, however it had happened, Enjolras was here and needed to be returned home, and as Grantaire followed the same sentence for the third time and let his eyes slide shut, his last thought was that Enjolras hadn't any shoes or socks for his feet.

-

Grantaire wakes to the quiet noise of bare feet on the stone floor and the dry rustle of fabric moving softly. Raising his head slowly from the table and blinking sleep heavy eyes he glances across the room and is startled to see Enjolras looking back at him.

His back is turned to the window, the early morning light silhouetting him against the glass and he offers up a small smile. Grantaire's mind rapidly remembers all that had transpired the previous night and he pushes himself to his feet. "Good morning, Sire." He greets. He is in the presence of possible royalty, and it is definitely better to be safe than sorry.

The line reappears on Enjolras's face for a moment, "Enjolras, please." He almost whispers.

"If you're sure?" A nod, "Then, how did you sleep Enjolras." The fleeting smile which passes over his face is not lost on Grantaire, and, in spite of himself he returns the gesture.

"Well, thank you." He watches Enjolras a moment longer, hoping he'll speak more, "I am afraid I am at a loss to how I arrived here." Enjolras begins quietly, "I was in my bed one minute- then the next-" gesturing around with one hand, he seems to grow even smaller under Grantaire's gaze.

He makes a decision, Enjolras is clearly uncomfortable, so he puts an end to the conversation. "I'm not sure either. That's what I'm working on." And he allows himself to smile widely at Enjolras across the room.

The smile is returned with a small one, and Grantaire turns to put the kettle on, "Breakfast?" He asks.

"If you wouldn't mind."

-

Breakfast and it's making turns out to be a simple, quiet affair. Enjolras is absolutely hopeless when it comes to cooking any kind of food, after he's broken egg shells into the pan and nearly spilt the milk an alarming number of times Grantaire takes over, banishing him to the table to set it. He's almost meticulous in the way he places the cutlery. Adjusting the plates and bowls with careful precision, and smiling at his handiwork.

Grantaire adds two more eggs to the pan and watches with amusement as he admires the plants hanging from the wooden beams, and when he turns to the table to put the bread down he finds Enjolras staring, transfixed, out the window.

"Never seen the outside before?" He asks, feeling slightly guilty at the way Enjolras jumps.

"I-" He seems at a loss for words, pain and confusion flits across his face.

"Only joking." Grantaire says, gesturing wordlessly to the seat closest to Enjolras and filling his tin mug with tea as he slides into it.

They eat for a short while in relative silence, Grantaire more focused on watching Enjolras fold his eggs than eating his own food. He grins at the sight of him wolfing down his plate, but before long the sight becomes all too familiar- he's lived in the woods long enough to see starved animals hunt- and the quick, calculated way Enjolras is eating is frighteningly similar. The easy smile slips from his face, and he is about to turn and look away when Enjolras looks up.

"I am- I am sorry," he stutters, face suddenly flushed, "it has been a long night and I am inclined to forget my manners." His hands fall into his lap, twisting nervously, "do forgive me."

Grantaire watches him for a moment longer, wondering, not for the first time, if perhaps life at the palace is not quite as perfect as it appears.

"Would you like some more to eat?" He asks eventually, concise that Enjolras has the look of a trapped animal about him. They have only known each other a few hours, and perhaps it is best not to scare him off just yet.

Enjolras's carefully concealed surprise shows on his face for a moment, a flash of emotion creasing his sculpted features for a beat. "I-" he begins, "Yes please."

Grantaire turns to make some more food and listens to what is most definitely not a hitch in Enjolras's otherwise steady breathing.

-

It's a little later in the day, when Grantaire is on the floor folding blankets and pillows to make a second bed, listening to Enjolras wash and stack plates on the windowsill that he realises that Enjolras has no proper clothes.

This would not normally be an issue- but Enjolras is short where Grantaire is not and delicate from a life of royalty. Ill fitting clothes would not normally be an issue either, but living in a city where tailors are easily accessible is very different to living in a forest. Grantaire supposes that they'll just have to manage.

While these thoughts have distracted him Enjolras has finished washing up and is at the window again. His eyes fixed on an equally blue sky, and a soft look about him as he listens to the birds.

Grantaire doesn't wish to disturb him- but matters must be discussed- and the practical element of having another staying is one which can't be ignored, even in exceptional circumstances.

"We need to talk." He says.

-

The change in Enjolras's body language is almost immediate, he tenses, turns away from the window with a troubled expression he had not worn moments previously. Grantaire curses himself for his clumsy phrasing.

"There is no denying that the situation is very odd." He tries, relaxing as Enjolras lets a little tension fall from his shoulders, "after all- you did quite literally appear from thin air, and, well," he continues, "I'm not used to royalty even in the most ordinary of circumstances."

"You must understand the circumstances are odd for me to." Enjolras tries, and Grantaire has to contain a laugh.

"Yeah, I guessed." He says quietly.

To Enjolras's eternal credit, he does his best to ignore the remark, "But, I wish for us to treat it as ordinarily as possible." He continues, "I have a life to get back to, and I'm sure you do too. Let's treat this as nothing more than a meeting between friends. I shall be gone soon enough."

Grantaire nods, it's a sensible observation, and, the conversation closed he changes the topic swiftly. "In the meantime, I'm sure you need something more than a nightshirt if you're to come and help me with the traps."

He turns to pull open the close chest by his bed, throwing a smile at a politely bewildered Enjolras as he does.

-

Enjolras keeps up this air of polite bewilderment throughout the entire fitting, if it could be called that.

Grantaire throws shirts and trousers at Enjolras who holds them up to himself and smiles slightly when Grantaire laughs. The fit of all his clothes almost drown Enjolras in fabric, but throughout his steady stream of chatter and Enjolras's persistent, confused nodding they find a few shirts that fit and some trousers that stay up with some careful tying.

-

Of course, shoes are a different matter entirely, and Enjolras can't seem to keep the shoes from slipping about, something which causes Grantaire no end of amusement.

The day is bright and warm- out on the paths shoes are welcome but not necessary. He looks down at Enjolras with a smile. "In the meantime," He says, "bare feet will serve well on the forest paths, I will teach you the traps another day- it's no matter."

The traps will still have to be checked, of course. Anything caught in them needs to be removed for fear of wild animals. And they'd finished much of the food Grantaire had at breakfast. Anything that could be used for trading would be useful in the village, and, Grantaire notes ruefully, Enjolras will need shoes and clothes if they are to journey back to the palace. Unless he is very much mistaken, there seems to be no pockets built into nightshirts of any kind. So no money will be forthcoming from his guest.

Not that he minds, of course, infact, he thinks, throwing the door open wide and pointing Enjolras to a basket by the door, quite on the contrary- for it will give him an excuse to drop in on old friends and an even better one to travel. Something he has always wished to do but never really got around to.

The summer light has warmed his face by the time his innermost musings run their course, so he turns to check on Enjolras, finding him staring about with an almost childlike wonder. He seems to be taking it all in- birds, trees, even the colour of the sky and it's hurried clouds. When he turns back around and locks eyes with Grantaire his face is alight with joy.

"It's so… _free_." He says with an almost reverent air.

Grantaire smiles back, "And you haven't even seen the best bit yet." Making for the treeline around his little clearing he turns back for a moment. "Follow me."

-

Enjolras seems transfixed by the woods about them. His eyes are wide as he looks at the moss, dripping green from trees; the leaves on the forest floor, brown and rotting and the buds on the spring growth.

The woods feel vibrant and awake, as Grantaire explains which mushrooms you should and shouldn't pick, points out the small white flowers blooming and listens to the sound of birdsong from above. The whole world feels alive and glowing about them.

Even the forest seems brighter than usual. The sun shining bright and the sky burning blue, it's as if it has all come out in full colour, spring has finally arrived with the dampness and green and fresh starts she brings with her.

Grantaire finishes up the bit about redcaps and toadstools he's been saying and glances about. They've halted by a pool in the brook, Grantaire knows where they are- close enough to the traps that he isn't fearful of leaving Enjolras.

Making sure one last time Enjolras knows what hes collecting, he sets off away from the path to check his traps. The woods are not usually so forgiving, he thinks as he pulls another bird from his third and final trap. The meat will be good salted and the rabbit will do well in a stew. The woods have been his home for years, since he first grew apart from his previous life and carved a new one from the resulting rock, yes, the woods have always been kind to him.

But today, they seem to be unusually bright and sunny- so when he finds Enjolras with a full basket he is barely even surprised at the rich pickings. He is sat on the stream bank, with his feet dangling in the water, colour spilling out from his hands.

Grantaire's shadow blocks the sun shining on Enjolras's back, and when he stands and turns, Grantaire can see the flowers have been woven to form a sort of band, placed haphazardly in his curls.

He resists the urge to reach out and tug it to sit straight, instead opening his mouth and saying as jovialy as possible, "You look good with a crown."

The smile that comes in response is small and sad and lovely.

-

Later, when they return to the cottage, when plans have been hatched for the days to come, Grantaire lies listening to Enjolras's steady breathing from across the room and hopes that whatever happens, the ending will be a sweet one.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly so stoked for you guys to read this- I have it outlined and it hopefully should around 16 chapters including an epilogue- as you can see it's part of a series, the second part I'll continue updating as this fic goes along- it's an Enjolras pov of some of the more significant events during the plot.
> 
> I'll hopefully have this updated every sunday, but if I don't, or if you have questions or just want to talk, I'm on tumblr @[icarus-free](%E2%80%9Dicarus-free.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) or for writing/chapter updates: @[edith-writes](%E2%80%9Dedith-writes.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) or for exclusively this fic (including my slightly dodgy art): @[to-my-dearest-love](%E2%80%9Dto-my-dearest-love.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I hope to see you next week!


End file.
